Lisa Hodge Supervisors: Dr Sarah Wendt & Dr Lia Bryant School of Psychology, Social Work & Social Policy

The Monster Without a place to hide Where do I stand? Still I see the monster, Though my head is in the sand. No refuge do I find On land or sea, It follows me through all the Earth, My spirit never freed. I pray it will depart With forceful hands, But only force its footing Even deeper where it stands. And though I curse it, Praying it will leave, The only creature truly cursed By what is said is me. No hit will make it weak, No glare less bold. Yes, hate just makes it stronger And more frightful to behold. And though an angry bid For help I cry, No weapon to defeat it Can my weary mind surmise. No, when I struggle Harder in it’s hold, Its grasp around me tightens; Blackened soul to skin we mould. Then gutless do I fall In its cold eyes. There is no earthy creature That my soul doth more despise. An echo of the dark from whence it came, It seeks out naive innocence And bleeds from blackened veins With soft endearing eyes That snare and scold, Soft lips that form soft words And hide the judgments that it holds. With golden fur That poisons as it pains, And Glistening teeth that Leave a bloodied trail of hopes remains. Beneath its mighty claws My bones do fold As if I, made of paper, Have not spine, nor will, nor soul. With sweet, alluring scent It draws you in Then drowns you helpless victim, In the ocean of its sin. I try to shield my eyes, To look away. But shadows do not hide the face That haunts me every day. Run, poor victim, From the dark disguise That hides a baleful, rancid heart Behind two kindly eyes. Taunting death, do not Decide to stay, Please hear me this, I will apprise; From ally comes its prey. Hidden underneath, The monster waits ‘Till as approaching freedom’s door, It rears its monstrous face. A serpent with a tongue To charm the Saints, And graceful hands that draw in close, Then choke the one it baits. A face known all too well, And one I hate. When first I saw it why did I Not flee with reckless haste? There is no other monster With such wiles As that which stalks the mirror. It gleams at me. It smiles.